


Come In With The Rain

by meredithhildebrand



Category: Carry On - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: Boys In Love, Fluff, M/M, Simon is a sap, Simon loves it when Baz wears his clothes so much, Some angst but not really, and all Simon really wants is for Baz to be happy, baz is a sap, baz is so uncomfortable but he doesn't have to be, because Simon loves him so much, inspired by a tumblr post, their relationship makes me so happy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-02
Updated: 2017-07-02
Packaged: 2018-11-22 10:55:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,633
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11378748
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/meredithhildebrand/pseuds/meredithhildebrand
Summary: I'm sitting on the couch, reading a book for school when Baz comes in, looking like he was just dumped over the head with a pail of water. He throws his bag on the ground and doesn't even bother saying hello to me. I know that the rain is terrible, but normally, Baz doesn't get this upset over it.





	Come In With The Rain

**_SIMON_ **

 

I'm sitting on the couch, reading a book for school when Baz comes in, looking like he was just dumped over the head with a pail of water. He throws his bag on the ground and doesn't even bother saying hello to me. I know that the rain is terrible, but normally, Baz doesn't get this upset over it.

He walks to the bathroom, leaving a faint trail of water behind him. I try not to laugh, but a smile comes anyway. He reminds me of a prissy toddler.

"Baz?" I call, standing up and walking over to the bathroom. I knock once on the door, but he doesn't reply. He's the most snobby person I've ever met, and this just confirms it. I don't think he even realizes that he is, but I would be surprised if he actually ever found out.

I smile softly and crack the door open an inch, and I see Baz, shirtless, with his wet jacket and shirt lying on the floor beside him. He's holding a towel, and he must've just been drying his hair because _oh my God it's never looked this good before_.

I think that I almost forget to breathe, and I can guarantee that it's showing on my face because Baz's eyes begin to glint almost mischievously. He knows how to mess with me. All the time. It's really irritating.

Baz smirks at me, the idiot bastard decides to _smirk_ , and I swallow; I can tell that I'm already blushing furiously. I tightly grip the doorknob. I run a hand through my hair, tangling it, and Baz smirks at me again.

"Simon? Are you okay?" he asks, his voice smooth, and I nod one second too quickly.

"Me? Yeah- yeah. I'm fine. I'm okay. Are _you_ okay? Do you need clothes?" I ask, and I can hardly understand what I'm saying because I'm talking too fast and Baz is standing in front of me, with his pale skin and his molten eyes and his dark hair and that _smile_.

_I can't take this._

Baz looks at me, running a hand through his hair and raising an eyebrow. I swallow and exhale. I can feel my stomach twisting into knots and I think that I might be delusional, because even though I see him every day, I don't think I can remember the last time that Baz was this _attractive_.

My skin goes warm, and that heat begins to fill my whole body, spreading through my veins and my arteries and making me feel like I'm going to burn from the inside out.

Before I can embarrass myself any longer, I shut the door quickly and run back to the couch, collapsing on it and pressing a pillow down onto my face. I close my eyes, inhaling and exhaling until some of the pressure in my chest is relieving and until my cheeks aren't burning with heat. Merlin, I haven't been this embarrassed around Baz in _weeks_.

I'm pretty sure that now, Baz thinks I have a problem with seeing him without a shirt on. Which isn't true at all. It's just that there's still a thin line between us, and I'm not completely sure if it blurring is a good or a terrible idea.

But what I _am_ completely sure of is that I definitely don't want it to be a terrible idea. I still feel vulnerable around him, but it's a different kind of vulnerable. It's the kind where all I want to do is impress him. The kind where I'm afraid of what I say. For the first time in a long time, this is the vulnerability that's unfamiliar to me.

_The kind of vulnerable that makes me not want to hurt him at all._

I take the pillow off of my face, and the stickiness of the fabric against my skin is suddenly gone, replaced with the feeling of cool air. I breathe out and close my eyes. My heart is pounding in my chest and I try to tell it to calm down, but it doesn't work.

I hear the clicking of a door opening, and I peak over the top of the couch and immediately drop back down when I see it's Baz.

_Merlin, Simon. Calm down, it's just Baz._

I sit up again, pressing my back against the couch and picking up the book that I was reading, and pretend to ignore him.

He clears his throat, and begins to walk over to me. I breathe out through my nose and will myself to relax. I don't know why I'm so nervous.

Baz walks around the couch and sits down, so that he's a few inches away from me. I try not to let the presence of him get in my head, but the smell of him, the smell of cedar and bergamot, fills my senses and immediately, all I want to do is kiss him.

Baz clears his throat. "Can I borrow some clothes? All of mine are soaked," he says softly, and I turn my head towards his slowly. His eyes are dark, and a faint trace of red is covering his cheeks. I smile.

Baz's eyes flick from the floor to my face, and I nod slowly. He smiles and takes my hand, rubbing his thumb over my knuckles. As I stare down at our intertwined fingers, I can't help but smile softly.

"Yeah, you can. They're in the second drawer," I say, just so that he knows. Baz nods and stands up, and walks over to the bedroom. I can hear doors opening, and the familiar sound of Baz grumbling, and then he walks back out with a pair of my trackies in his hand. I tilt my head to the side, and try not to laugh at his expression. It's a mix of pure disgust and rage, and it makes Baz look like a child who didn't get the toy that they wanted.

"Simon? What on Earth are _these_?" he asks, and the tone of his voice just makes me start laughing. Through my half-shut eyes, I see him glaring at me. It only makes me laugh harder.

"Are you serious, Baz? They're trackies," I say, after I've finished laughing, and Baz looks distraught. Merlin, I haven't seen him look like this in _ages_. And honestly, I forgot how hilarious it is. After being with Baz for almost a year, I've learned to read him inside and out, but we've both been extremely happy for the majority of it. I haven't seen him upset about something in a long time.

"Don't you have anything else? Anything more.." he stops, runs a hand through his hair, and gives me a look.

"Anything more _what_ , Baz?" I ask, standing up, and leaning against the back of the couch with my arms crossed over my chest. I can't believe how prissy he's being.

Baz runs his tongue over his fangs, huffs, and glares at me again. His eyes flash. I can tell that he's getting pissed off, but I honestly don't think that I can get mad at him anymore.

"You _know_ , Simon. Don't you have anything more... presentable, maybe? Pristine?" he asks, and immediately I double over in laughter. I already know he's glaring at me, but I don't care. I've never seen him like this, but I wish that I had known that this is what happens when the great Baz Pitch gets rained on. It would've gotten me through the eight years of our lives at Watford better than anything else.

I mean, _imagine it_. Basilton Pitch, acting like a snobby child just because he got caught up in a storm.

When I finally stop laughing, I look at Baz, whose eyes are flashing and he looks downright murderous. I run my hand through my curls, and sweetly smile at him. I can drive him crazy, at least for a little bit. I think we both need it. We haven't had a huge argument in months, and he's probably aching for one of these, just so that his already-massive ego can grow even more.

Baz lets out a breath and takes a step towards me, his fist clenching the fabric of my trackies.

"Okay, Snow," Baz says, and his voice is venom. "You try being 6 feet tall and fitting into these," he finishes. I grip the edge of couch and swallow.

"I don't see what _exactly_ the problem is, Baz," I say, after a few seconds, feigning confusion. "You're the one who asked _me_ for clothes. It's not my fault if they don't fit you. You know that I'm shorter than you."

Baz scoffs at me, and his eyes flash, and I can almost see the flames inside of them rising higher.

I smirk at him, and I can see the wheels turning behind his eyes. I have to admit that I missed this. This silly, stupid banter that is still somehow so satisfying after it became basically non-existent.

Yeah. I guess you could say that I missed this.

 

**_BAZ_ **

 

Simon smirks at me, and it pisses me off even more because it just makes him seem so much more attractive. Which should be impossible, since he's the best-looking person that I've ever seen before in my whole life. (Except for me, but I would never tell Snow that. He would stake me through the heart.)

I swallow, and smirk back at him. He runs a hand through his curls and without thought, my eyes follow his movement. Simon looks at me, and takes a step forward. If I focus hard enough, I can hear his heart beating in his chest, and I can hear the blood rushing through his veins.

"Look, Baz. Those are what I have. If you don't want them, then you can be cold and wet. Be my guest," Simon says, and his voice is calm, too calm for this.

I glare at him, out of years of habit, and stomp back to the bathroom. He's the most stubborn person I've ever met. I can almost guarantee that he has something else for me to wear, but he's just being an idiot about it.

I slam the door behind me, and I can hear Simon cackling from the other room. I let out a heavy breath and hold the trackies up by my face. They look like they'll be a bit short for me, since Simon is smaller than I am.

I _should_ wear them. I mean, my clothes are soaked, and right now, I'm freezing because all I have on are trousers that are dripping water all over the bathroom floor.

I shiver, and slowly put them on. They're a bit snug, but they're warm. And I can already tell that they smell like Simon, warm and familiar and all-too consuming.

They come up a little bit past my ankles, and I bend over so that I can push them farther down. The smell of Simon wafts up and fills my nose, wrapping around me and making me feel like I'm at home.

I turn back to the bathroom counter, and pick up the jumper. I took this from Simon's room because my own jumper was soaking wet, and there was no way on Earth that I would put that back on.

_(And also, his jumpers are warm. And they smell like him, which is never a bad thing.)_

I slide the jumper on, and the scent of Simon wafts through my nose. I can't help but smile, despite the crappy situation.

I look at myself in the mirror, and almost burst out laughing. The jumper is almost too small for me, but it's snug, which is fine.

But the trackies. They're still too short for me, even though I tried to push them down at the ankles. I stare down at them, and refrain from glaring, because I don't really have anything to get mad about.

Except for Simon's reaction. If he found what happened earlier hilarious, then he's bound to find this absolutely hysterical.

I sigh, and rest my hand on the doorknob. It doesn't matter what I wear, with or without him around. I'm cold, I got caught in a rainstorm, and I asked my boyfriend for some extra clothes. There's nothing wrong with that. I mean, a lot of people would probably do the same thing.

 

**_SIMON_ **

 

I'm in the kitchen for a good ten minutes before realizing that Baz _still_ isn't out of the washroom, and I set my cup of tea onto the counter. I walk over to the bathroom door and knock on it, and I swear that I can almost hear something jump behind it. 

Normally, Baz isn't jumpy. Only when he's hiding something from me, which isn't often at all. 

I roll my eyes, and knock again. I can almost hear him shifting behind the door. Merlin, I don't know what he's doing in there.

"Baz?" I ask, but he doesn't reply. I run a hand through my hair, and stare up at the ceiling before talking again. "What are you doing in there?"

He doesn't reply, but I can hear something behind the door, and I don't know how much longer I can take this. I had no idea that Baz was this dramatic over what he wears, but he needs to get over it. He doesn't need to be embarrassed in front of me. 

I can hear a heavy sigh from inside the bathroom, and I take a step back. 

Finally, just when I think I'm about to break the door down in anticipation, Baz speaks.

"Simon, I can't wear these," he says, his voice inches away from whining, and I heavily sigh. 

"Baz, why not? They're perfectly fine," I reply, rolling my eyes again and leaning against the wall next to the bathroom.

I can hear him huffing, and I can't help but let out a small smile.

"Fine," he says, after a few long minutes. I let out a breath and press away from the wall, and Baz opens the door almost comically slowly. I tilt my head and slightly smirk at him. 

His hair has dried, and it falls in loose waves around his face. His eyes are dark. I can almost see the nervousness in his expression, and it makes my heart clench in my chest.

Baz holds onto the doorknob, almost half-way behind it, and I take a step forward. 

He's wearing a dark jumper, with my trackies, which are almost too small for him, but they look completely fine anyway. I smile at him.

"See?" I say, gesturing towards his outfit with my hand. "They're not _that_ bad." Baz just smirks and a bright red blush covers his cheeks.

"Seriously?" he asks, and I nod twice. I have no idea why he was so nervous about wearing my own clothes, but he looks good in them. Almost _too_ good, if I really think about it. 

Okay, better than good. If I didn't want to sound like a complete sap, I would say that he looks fantastic in them.

 "Baz, honestly. They're fine," I say, and Baz smiles and steps towards me. I can already smell cedar and bergamot, and it makes my head spin.

Baz runs his hand slowly through my hair, and wraps an arm around my waist, pulling me closer to him. I grin. 

Baz's eyes lock with mine, and leans in and kisses me, his mouth warm against mine. My lips pull into a grin against his own and I slide my fingers through his hair.

Maybe, I like the trackies more than the suit, I think, as Baz's mouth presses against mine.

Yeah. This is a thousand times better than the suit.

 

                            ~END~

**Author's Note:**

> oh my goodness, this went a lot longer than I had originally wanted it to. I just couldn't wrap it up, because I loved the idea of Baz having to wear Simon's trackies since his own clothes are soaked. I thought it was such a fun idea, and I hadn't seen something like it before.  
> and honestly, I went through a terrible case of word vomit. Seriously, this was probably the worst time that I've ever had a case of it. I just couldn't stop writing.  
> This fic was actually inspired by an amazing artist on Tumblr. Her username is dancingwdinosaurs.tumblr.com, and you guys should all go check her art out. It's some of my favourite Carry On art, and for the time being, it's actually how I imagine them looking in my head. I want to thank her for drawing the picture that inspired this fic, thank you thank you thank you:)  
> anyway, I hope that you guys all enjoyed reading this as much as I did. a hundred thank you's for each one of you:)


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